The Start
by SilvaBells
Summary: "I'm bringing someone over. -SH" was all the warning John got when Sherlock brought his son, Hamish over for the first time. Can Sherlock and John love a child they don't know as they find they love each other? Parentlock johnlock (smut in later chapters)
1. Chapter 1

"I'm bringing someone over. -SH"

Holmes rarely announces, or even mentions, when someone is coming over.

So I guess that is Sherlock's way of telling me to tighty-up. But why would Sherlock care? He is the bloody reason this place is always a mess.

The person is probably someone special. Not that I care. Sherlock can bring anyone he wants over. He's a grown man.

A beautiful, grown man. A beautiful, grown man who's sexy eyes look into your heart and who's hair is just begging to be played with.

Okay, I cared. I cared a lot. But I wanted Sherlock happy, so I'd tighty-up as much as I could.

"And this is my- our flat," I heard Sherlock say as he walked up the steps with someone.

Their steps were different. They had more weight to them and they were spaced out. So they must be carrying something.

I smiled at myself, proud of what I had figured out.

"John, open the door," Sherlock demanded.

I sighed. "You don't have to show off for your friend," I said annoyed as I walked over to the door. "Why couldn't you just open it-" I froze when I saw Sherlock's 'friend.'

There stood a young boy, no older then 7, who was a smaller version of Sherlock.

They both were holding many suitcases.

"John this is Hamish," Sherlock said as he walked into the flat. He dropped the cases on the floor and turned to the boy.

"Nice to meet you," I helped Hamish with his suit cases and shook his hand when one was finally available.

"Nice to meet you too." Hamish smiled shyly. He looked around the flat taking everything in.

The boy looked over to Sherlock, "Is this the doctor from the stories Mum told me, Father?"

My eyes widened as he looked at Sherlock. "Father?!"

"Yes," Sherlock looked at me. Then down to his son, "And yes. He's the doctor."

"So he's your boyfriend?" Hamish asked innocently.

I could feel my heart skip a beat. "No I'm not his boyfriend! What kind of stories did your Mum tell you? And who is your Mum?" I was so very confused. "And how are you a father?"

"John and I are going to talk in the kitchen really quick, you can start setting up your things now."

"In the living room? Where will he sleep? The couch?" I asked.

"Yes, well unless he wanted the floor, which I don't suggest," Sherlock said not seeing a problem.

"Hamish you can have my room, I'll sleep in the living room," I offered.

"You can't sleep in the living room," Sherlock said. "That's ridiculous! You'll never fit on the couch, you're a grown man."

"But having your son sleep there is okay? Are you going to explain how you magically got a son?"

"Don't be foolish John, magic isn't real."

"That's the explanation I get? 'Magic isn't real.' I- How-," I couldn't find words, "Excuse us."

I grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him into his room. I closed the door behind us and looked at Sherlock. "You can start with who's his mother."

"Irene."

"When and why? I thought sex wasn't your 'thing.'"

"It was 7 years ago and she drugged me."

Confused I sighed. How was he so calm about this? "Not to sound rude, but why do you have him now? After all this time?"

"Irene died and they were going to send him away."

Oh gosh. How could that happen? No, too much too soon. I won't ask about that until later. She truly was the only person Sherlock ever 'liked'.

"If I remember correctly you said something about wanting a family and kids. So this could also serve you as a treat."

"Sherlock this is a person, a living breathing human being. Not a pair of shoes," I tried but I knew there were somethings that Sherlock would never grasp. "Look, I'm sorry to hear about Irene. But at least now you can spend time with your son." A smile slipped out of me.

"Our son." Sherlock corrected me. I looked at him confused, not sure if I heard correctly. "'We' are raising him, therefore he is 'our' son."

I could feel my face slowly get pink. "Alright then. I'll go help Hamish with his bags." I turned to the door to hide my face.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch. We could just share a bed," Sherlock suggested.


	2. Chapter 2

My mind began to wander. Sharing a bed with Sherlock?

Now I could finally have my dream of falling asleep next to Sherlock. Those dark locks of lust would run threw my fingers. Every morning and every night I would look into the eyes of my love. We'd be so close, Sherlock would be able to feel my heart beat.

"Hamish and I," Sherlock finished his sentence, "He's small and wouldn't take up that much room."

I sighed and look at Sherlock. "The boy is 7, he's not going to want to lay with his father." I explained, "I'll sleep with you, and he can have my bed until we get him his own."

Sherlock surprisingly seemed okay with that idea. "Alright," he stood up and we re-entered the living room.

"Why is there a foot in the microwave, Father?" Hamish asked as we returned. He was looking at the skull on the mantel.

"Experiments," Sherlock said plainly as he grabbed two suit cases and went to my room.

Hamish looked at me, "Why is there a foot in the microwave?"

I half chuckled as I grabbed a bag, "When I find out, I'll tell you first."

Once we moved all of Hamish's things to my, now old, room, it was time to wash up and go to bed. Most of the things were books, which surprised me.

I could tell that Sherlock was trying hard to be a good father. When it was Hamish's turn to shower Sherlock triple checked everything.

He checked to see if he had a wash cloth, and enough soap. Sherlock asked him if he used shampoo 'and' conditioner because he was worried there wasn't going to be enough for all three of us.

If you didn't know Sherlock you would think he was just being a good parent. But I saw that he was freaking out on the inside because he had little to no idea on what to do with a child.

When Sherlock was done playing 20 questions with Hamish he came to bed.

He was only in a towel and still wet. I only had trousers on and had my shirt in my hands.

We've never seen each other this bare before so blushing was as common as breathing at this point. But I still faced the other way.

"That was generous of you," Sherlock said to break the silence.

By instinct I looked over to him, but his towel was now drying his hair. I could feel my entire face get bright red as I tried to look away. Clearing my throat, "What was?" I put my shirt on.

"Giving Hamish your room," he walked up next to be where his dresser was. "But it makes sense why you did it."

Does he know I like him? I've liked Sherlock for as long as I can remember. But I could never do anything about it. And even when I did, he would never catch it.

"You don't want to sleep on your small bed any more," Sherlock said, "I don't understand why you don't just get a queen like me. That small thing is bad for your back."

See? Over his head.

No Sherlock its because I wanted to share a bed with the love of my life.

He put pants on and noticed something on my back as I turned to the bed. Sherlock ran his hand softly over a wound I got when I was in Afghanistan. It was near the top of my shoulder. The feeling was numb still but I could feel his touch.

I grabbed his hand with my left and slowly turned to look at him. I held his hand and gave him a weak smile.

His hand wandered to my dog tags that I still wear. I feel naked with out them. It's like how some people always wear a ring, but I wear these.

Sherlock looked up and for once he smiled back. Seeing Sherlock smile, about something that isn't a murder, is rare. He hardly ever shows emotion as it is.

"Father, I forgot a towel," Hamish called from the shower. Sherlock paused before losing eye contact with me. He slowly let go of my hand, got a robe, and began to walk to the bathroom.

Damn you Hamish for ruining our moment!

The bed was all the way in the corner of the room, it had a head board and a foot board so there was only one way to get in. Last time I was in here the bed was in the middle of the room, nice and proper. But now it is shoved in a corner so Sherlock had room for his experiments. I laid down in bed, closest to the wall so Sherlock could just lay in the empty space and not have to climb over me.

"Good night Father," Hamish said, "I love you."

"Uhh... Good night," Sherlock repeated, "I uh, also... Love you..." You could tell he was only saying that because that's what you were supposed to say.

Sherlock came back after a minute and closed the door. He turned off the light and took off his robe.

"You're doing a good job," I said as he laid down. "Being a father and all."

"Oh please," he said. "I feel like an ignorant Buffoon. I can only imagine how stupid people must feel."

"No really," I reassured him, "For day one, this is good."

Sherlock turned to his side and faced me. His eyes looked into mine.

"Our son is going to be fine," I grabbed Sherlock's hand and smiled.

Sherlock was new at this. And like all parents, when you first start this, it's terrifying. It's not like he's a baby so no feeding or changing. But no matter how old, raising a child is hard.

"John," Sherlock started looking into my eyes.

"Yes?" I looked at my love.

"Could we switch sides? I don't like ledges."

Why would he try to do something romantic? Oh right. Because he's Sherlock! And he doesn't do romantic, remember!

"Uh... Sure," I sat up getting ready to move.

Instead of Sherlock getting up so I could move properly, he crawled over me.

Well now that I'm all excited, time for sleep.

"Good night Sherlock," I said as I laid on my side so I wouldn't face him.

"Good night John," Sherlock said.

"I don't know if I roll or kick in my sleep," I warned Sherlock, "So I apologize in advance if I do."

"It's fine," Sherlock said as he drifted off.

But little did Sherlock know that I had a secret plan. Once he thinks I fell asleep I'll roll over and be closer to him.

After about a half an hour I rolled on my back.

Sherlock was asleep by now. His breathing was steady and he held a pillow.

His legs stretched and his left foot scratches his right calf. He shifted positions often trying to find a comfy spot.

For a good two hours I just watched Sherlock sleep.

It reminded me of a cat, he would twitch and fidget to react to his dream.

But then he took a large breath threw his nose and his shoulders lifted. I thought he was going to wake up. But instead he rolled over to his other side to face me. Still asleep he reached his arm out searching for something.

Once his hand found my chest Sherlock hugged my body like the pillow and fell asleep. His head on my heart and his arms around me.

I held my breath not knowing what to do. If I move he might wake up. But if I don't breath and stay still, I'll...well die...

Slowly I began to breath again. I might as well take this moment while I can.

Carefully I placed my hand on his back and held his other hand in mine. Sherlock got more comfortable and intertwined our legs by putting his left leg in between mine.

How am I supposed to go to sleep like this now?

After that Sherlock didn't move. He was comfortable and not once did he even fidget.

Now I could fall asleep with my Sherlock in my arms.


	3. Chapter 3

"Father..."

There was a faint whisper.

"Father."

Stop I'm sleeping.

"Wake up!" it said.

Slowly and reluctantly I opened my eyes. I turned to the voice wondering what it could be.

There in front of me stood a small boy. He looked exactly like Sherlock but younger. The boy was dressed in a school uniform.

"I have to go to school in an hour," said the boy shyly.

Wait what?

I looked around, to find that I was in Sherlock's room.

Wait... What?

Then I felt a weight on my chest. When I looked down Sherlock was holding me.

Wait...

What?

"I thought you said that you weren't his boyfriend..." the boy said slightly confused.

Oh right! It's all coming back now.

"No we're not dating," I said as I sat up waking Sherlock up. "Sherlock get up, we have to go."

Sherlock sat up and yawned, "Is there a case!?" he rubbed his eyes.

"No we have to take Hamish to school."

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at Hamish. His son looked at him innocently.

"Right," Sherlock crawled over me and walked to the kitchen.

I sighed and sat up to stretch.

"You're not doing a good job convincing me you're not dating..." Hamish said with the slightest bit of evil.

"Hush you," I said as I walked to the counter where I placed my clothes.

"You should just tell him how you feel," Hamish suggested, "You might be surprised by what he'll say."

I looked at him. Letting out a small laugh, "He won't feel the same way I do."

"Well you'll never know when the last time you see him is." Hamish said looking at the floor, "And you might want to tell him before it's too late, because you don't want to regret not telling him something so simple." He stood there quietly then left to the kitchen.

I know the feeling of having someone close lost. But not like this boy. His mother died. That's something no 7 year old should have to live with. He's too young for that kind of pain.

When I was dressed I went into the kitchen to make breakfast for Hamish. But I realized we don't have food.

Sherlock was in his robe dancing around the kitchen trying to find something for his son.

"Maybe there's something in the freezer..." Hamish suggested as he went to open it.

There's a head in the freezer.

"Don't!" I slammed the freezer shut before he could open it up more then the two inches he had it opened.

Confused and startled, Hamish looked at me.

"Don't think there's food in here..." I said.

I really don't want him to piss himself like I did when I first saw the head, that's all.

"Sherlock, where's all the food?" I asked as we walked into the living room. He was sitting in his arm chair hugging his skull from the mantel.

"I don't know, you're the one who eats it all."

I sighed aggravated, "Well get dressed so we can take him to school. And leave the skull."

Sherlock said something under his breath and walked to our room.

"I also need lunch money," Hamish tugged at my arm.

"Right," I said as I reached for my wallet. "Don't tell the other people we don't have food. I'll go shopping today."


	4. Chapter 4

"Good bye, Hamish," I said as he got out the cabb.

"Good bye Hamish," Sherlock added.

Hamish waved and went into the school.

"Also, to the grocery store," I told the cabby as I rolled up the window.

"Sure thing boss," he smiled.

I noticed Sherlock still watching Hamish as he went into the school.

"Do you need anything at the store?" I asked as I pulled out my list. It already had some things down for Hamish, but we also needed food and what ever Sherlock pulls out of his ass.

"Salt, pliers, jars-"

"What happened to the pliers I got you last month?"

"They broke," Sherlock explained, "Why else would I need new ones, John?"

"Well I don't know, you could have traded them with a murderer for fun."

John be nice. This will never get him to like you back.

The cab stopped in front of the store. I pulled out my money to pay for my added stop.

"I'll be home in about a half an hour."

"I'll be there, unless something better shows up."


	5. Chapter 5

Longest 'half an hour' of my life. That lasted longer then I wanted it to.

I didn't know shopping for young boy things would be this damn hard. Since most of Hamish's things aren't fitting him I though I would be nice and buy him some new clothes. I wonder if Irene didn't notice his ill fitting clothes or just chose to ignore it.

They weren't that bad but if he lifted his arms at all his stomach showed a bit.

I returned to the flat with many bags in hand. It was a struggle to open the door. But thankfully Mrs. Hudson saw me and grabbed some bags.

"Why so many things this time?" she asked confused.

"Well you see..." How do I explain this? "Well this is all very complicated. You see Sherlock and I now have a son-"

"Oh congratulations! I didn't know you two were finally together!" she was so pleased.

"No, no! Not like that," I blushed, "Sherlock had a son but now he is ours because of issues with the mother..."

"John, love, how do you have a son with Sherlock and /not/ be together?" she asked. But it was more of her saying that we were.

I tried to get my key in the door with out blushing more.

"No we are not together Mrs. Hudson. We are nothing more then flat mates and partners," I explained as I opened the door.

When I walked in it was very quiet. A few steps inside, I saw Sherlock and Hamish asleep in Sherlock's arms chair. A book on Hamish's lap and him on Sherlock's .

I couldn't help the smile on my face. They were picture perfect. My beautiful Sherlock just sitting there with our son in his arms.

"Well I'll just leave these here and go," Mrs. Hudson said as she left.

Quietly I walked pass them and into the kitchen to place the bags down.

I walked back to the arm chair, Hamish was rolling over trying to find a comfy spot. He doesn't look too comfortable. I should take him to his room.

Replacing the book on the other couch slightly confused me because the book was a rather large and advanced for a boy of seven years of age. Gently I picked up Hamish.

He woke up slightly a little confused and frightened. "Shh," I reassured him, "It's just me, I'll take you back to your room."

He latched on to my side as I held him, his head in the crook of my neck and his arms and legs around me. "Okay Daddy."

I couldn't hide my smile. For some reason that felt amazing.

I laid him down in my, now his, bed. "I'll get you a new bed next week, okay?" I whispered.

"I like this one," he murmured, as he feel asleep again. "It smells like father and you."

Well it's true, my bed does smell like Sherlock.

Why? Well often he'll leave this clothes or other things in here because he needs room. I never complain, I like it.


	6. Chapter 6

"What took you so long?" Sherlock asked as I returned to the living room. He was now using my laptop.

"The store was confusing and it took me awhile to find that jam Hamish wanted," I admitted.

Sherlock began to nag me about being an idiot for not understanding a store, but it was nothing new. So I just ignored him.

Hamish's little speech to me about telling Sherlock how I felt began to replay in my head.

He's right! I should just tell him!

"Uhh... Sherlock," my face already began to blush.

"What, John?" He didn't look up from my laptop.

"So umm..." I tryed, "Hamish asked me something..."

He just looked at me.

"He asked me if we were dating..." I could feel my heart beating faster and faster. "And I... Umm..."

"You what?" He closed he laptop.

"Well...what am I supposed to tell him?" I asked, "It would be weird if, you know..."

"It would be weird if we were together?" he tryed to finish my thought.

"No! Not at all!" Oh gosh! My face was completely red by now. "It's just that usually, the parents are together... And you know... It's just..." Why don't words work?

"John," he started to walk up to me. "We aren't going to be on a relationship just so Hamish won't feel weird."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, taking it in. "I understand," I opened my eyes. Sherlock was now right in front of me.

"We'll be in a relationship because we love each other," he said as he looked into my eyes.

I wanted to say something but, the thought was lost in his beautiful eyes.

He gently placed his hand on my cheek and slowly moved in.

Is this really happening? My dream, it's coming true.

I've kissed people before, but this kiss was the only kiss I've ever needed. Sherlock's lips were so soft against mine. The feeling was like nothing I've ever felt before.

I placed my hands on his neck softly bringing him closer as he wrapped his other arm around my waist.

Out of every moment that I have ever lived, this one was my favorite.

We pulled away for air after a second and looked at each other to make sure we both wanted this.

Sherlock kissed my neck before slowly he slid down to his knees. I wrapped my fingers in his locks. Sherlock kissed me over top of my jeans. His hands began to unbuckle my belt.

This was really happening. I'm not dreaming this up like I usually do.

Just the sound of the belt coming undone turned me on. With every jingle I got more excited.

"Father... Daddy..." Hamish knocked on the door.

Are you serious Hamish?! You tell me to talk to him and then cock block me! I'm taking your Legos back!

Sherlock looked up at me. "Daddy?" he asked with a small smile. He got back up and kissed my cheek. Sherlock opened the door to let in the small boy.

Hamish stood there rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake up. "Hey there," I said as I fixed my belt. "I got you something," I explained as I walked over to the kitchen where I placed the bags.

"What is it?" Hamish followed excited.

I grabbed the pirate Lego set to give to him. His eyes got wide and a smile grew on his face. "Really? For me?!" he was so happy. "Thank you!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Good night Father," Hamish hugged Sherlock and he kissed Hamish's head.

"Good night Hamish."

"Good night Daddy," He hugged me and I also kissed his head.

"Good night Hamish."

Hamish has been here a little under a month so now everyone has the flow of everything. Sherlock and I still share his bed, but we're kind of together now.

I'd say ,"Thanks to Hamish," but thanks to Hamish the farthest Sherlock and I have ever gotten was second base, if that even counts when you're both males. As soon as we got near third Hamish would come in.

It's not that I don't love him, I truly do, but Hamish is the biggest cock block I've ever met.

Hamish laid down in his bed as Sherlock and I headed to our room, closing the door behind us.

He's really soften up since Hamish arrived. He kind of understands how human emotions work now.

"Where ever we ordered dinner from tonight, let's not ever eat there again." Sherlock said as he took off his robe. He was wearing four nicotine patches. Sherlock has been really stressed over Hamish. "It was horrid."

"Sherlock," I said as he looked at me. "I cooked."

"Oh, well then don't cook that ever again."

Yeah, forget what I just said about him being softer now. He's still an ass.

He laid in bed and I followed. The bed was in the middle of the room now, where it belongs. I couldn't stand having it in the corner anymore. Sherlock doesn't complain about it, he just cuddles with me. Well he cuddles when he wants to, when he sleeps. "You really didn't like my cooking?" I asked him as I looked him in the eyes a little hurt.

Sherlock placed his hand on my cheek and strokes it with his thumb. "People have strong points in life, John."

I couldn't help but smile at this perfect being in front of me.

"Yours just isn't cooking."

Smile? Gone.

"Well fine!" I angrily turned to my side so we weren't facing each other.

"John," He tried.

"No, I'm mad at you now!" I pouted.

"I don't believe you're mad at me," Sherlock said as he kissed down my neck.

I couldn't help but fall in love with the feeling of his lips on my skin. Slowly I laid on my back and he strataled me.

He kissed my collar bone and trailed to my wound on my shoulder. His finger brushed over it as he looked at it.

I ran my fingers threw his hair and looked at him. "It doesn't hurt anymore," I reassured him.

Sherlock fingered my dog tags. He traced a trail from the tags to my neck. Slowly, he took them off of me and put them on himself. He looked at me, eyes asking if it was okay. I kissed him saying he could have them.

Sherlock smiled and continued down to my nipple. He took it in his mouth and I couldn't help but moan a little.

Just him touching me drove me crazy but this is something words can't explain.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip as I ran my fingers threw my hair.

He fingered my pants and slowly began to pull them down.

"Aaahhh!" There was a scream from up stairs. Sherlock grabbed something laying on the side table and began to run up stairs.

Quickly, I pulled myself together and followed. Once upstairs Sherlock kicked open Hamish's door and we ran inside.

"Stay right there!" Sherlock demanded as he pointed his gun.

But there wasn't anyone in there but our son. Hamish was sitting up on his bed scared with tears running down his face.

I ran to his side and Sherlock put the gun down. "What's wrong? No one's in here."

Hamish's breath was unsteady as he breathed, "It was about Mum." He cried into my chest as I hugged him.

"Shhh it's okay," I rubbed his back. "Daddy's got you and Father's here too." I looked at Sherlock nodding at him to sit with us.

Sherlock placed his gun on the table and sat with us. He wasn't sure what to do plus he was still uncomfortable with this whole, "Loving your son," deal.

So I reached my arm around him and pulled him into the hug.

"I'm here," Sherlock said as he grabbed Hamish's hand.

"It was only a dream," I reassured him.

"N-no it wasn't. It r-really happened!" he started to cry all over again. Hamish rubbed his tears away with his fists. He was shaking and coughing, trying to catch his breath.

I know this feeling. This is how I felt when I first started to have nightmares about Afghanistan. It was only a dream, but it really happened.

All I could do was just hold him close and hope everything will be okay.

After a while Hamish calmed down a little and looked at Sherlock, "Why did you bring a gun?" He wiped his eyes innocently.

"I thought you were in real danger."

"Sherlock." I barked wanting to hit him for being rude.

"I thought someone was trying to hurt you," he restated.

I wiped away the rest of his tears and fixed his hair. "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?"

He shook his head and hugged Sherlock. "Can I sleep with you two tonight, Father?"

"You should sleep in your own bed," he started.

"But only because you had a nightmare, you can sleep with us tonight," I finished for him, knowing that's not what he was going to say.

I picked him up and carried him down to our room.

When we arrived in our room Sherlock placed the gun back in the night stand. "Has that always been there?"

"Of course it has," Sherlock stated, "Where else am I supposed to put it?"

"I don't know somewhere that isn't five inches away from my head," I said.

Hamish giggled at our fight from on the bed. "Daddy, can you get me the jam before I go to bed?" He asked, "Mum used to feed me jam after I had a nightmare."

"Sure," I went to the kitchen and got the raspberry jam and a spoon. I came back and sat on the bed.

"Thank you," he opened the jar and took two spoonfuls then laid down.

When we all laid down he laid right in the middle of Sherlock and I and faced him.

It only took him five minutes to fall asleep. But like his father he rolls and kicks.

It was quite fun to watch. They both seemed to twist and turn at the same time.

For about two hours I just watched them. I couldn't help to just watch the beautiful beings in front of me.

"I can't do this," Sherlock said as he stood up and began to walk around the bed.

"Where are you going?" I sat up and asked him. I could have sworn he was dead asleep three seconds ago.

He came up to my side of the bed, "Move over a bit," he demanded.

"What, why?" I asked confused as Hamish rolled over to the other side of the bed.

Sherlock laid next to me, "That pillow is uncomfortable."

I blushed a bit because I was a little flattered. "Oh okay."

I laid back down and Sherlock placed his head in the crook of my neck. He held me close and put his top leg in between mine.

"You usually don't do this until you pretend to be asleep," I joked.

"Hush John," Sherlock barked, "I had a long day and I'm very tired."

Rubbing my fingers on his nicotine patches, I looked at Hamish.

"I'm proud that you've been doing so well." I kissed his head and smiled.

"Good night John," Sherlock insisted.

"Good night Sherlock." I rested my head on top of his.

He laid still and I wondered if he actually went to sleep when finally I did.


	8. Chapter 8

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson," I heard Sherlock say before I walked into the living room with our dinner in hand.

"Any time Sherlock!" she smiled.

I would like to eat in the kitchen for once, especially since Hamish is so used to eating on a dinning room table, but all of Sherlock's science equipment is everywhere.

I handed Hamish his plate of Chinese food. He was sitting in front of the table playing. "Careful it's hot." But he was too engrossed in his Legos to even hear me so I just put it next to him.

Hamish has become much more comfortable around us. He realizes that we aren't completely insane and he can trust us. Sure he was a little shy in the beginning, but who wouldn't be?

"Sherlock, dinner is here," I said as I placed his food down.

"Alright, well I guess I'll be leaving you boys," Mrs. Hudson excused herself. "Oh I'll pick you up right before dinner. Okay Hamish," she smiled.

"Yes ma'am," Hamish smiled back at Mrs. Hudson.

She left and Sherlock sat down. "What was that about?" I asked him as I saw him half smile.

"Never you mind John," he said as he began to read the paper.

"Sherlock, please eat." I practically begged.

"I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I!" Hamish followed.

"No you need to eat!" I protested his rebelian.

"But I'm not hungry."

"If you don't eat you won't grow up big or strong."

"Double negative, and nor," Sherlock corrected me. I ignored him.

"Yeah, father is big and strong and he hardly ever eats!" Hamish pointed out.

"Your father is a bad listener and I don't want you to get sick from not eating." I pushed his plate closer to him.

Hamish just crossed his arms and didn't eat.

I couldn't even ask Sherlock for back up because he was the one who bloody started it.

"Hamish eat!" I begged.

"I'll eat when Father eats."

I looked at Sherlock, still reading the paper. His food was getting cold.

"Sherlock, please eat," I begged.

"I'll eat when I'm hungry."

AHHHG! I never win in this place!

"If neither of you eat then you're both punished!" I yell aggravated.

Hamish looked up at me and slowly begins to eat. But Sherlock just sits there unfazed.

"Sherlock eat!" I yell as I take his paper away and hand him his food. "You didn't eat since lunch yesterday," I say worried.

"What did you say about me being punished if I didn't?" he raised an eyebrow.

I just glare at him knowing what he wanted me to say. "You need to start eating three meals a day starting tomorrow," I sigh as I sit down motioning my head toward Hamish.

"I don't know if I can eat all that and cake," Sherlock says as he begins to eat.

"Cake?!" Hamish asked excited almost jumping up.

"We're having cake tomorrow," Sherlock said.

"For what?" I asked.

Sherlock gave me that, "You're an idiot" look. But this one was different.

"Your birthday..."

Oh right... Crap.

"Happy early birthday Daddy!" Hamish smiled.

"Thank you Hamish."

Sherlock's phone began to ring, "Excuse me." He walked to the kitchen and answered his phone. "Hello... Yes... Where?...How many bodies?"

Hamish looked at me confused. "What?"

I put my finger to my mouth asking for him to stay quiet.

"At the train station? Yes I'll be right over." Sherlock hung up his phone. He ran for his coat and scarf. "A string of murders," he was smiling and was very excited. "They don't know why but they are all connected."

I stood up getting ready to follow him. We hadn't had a case in almost three weeks! It's about time! Forgive me for wishing people died more often. But I held my smile of excitement inside.

"Maybe it was a werewolf," Hamish suggested. "I read a book about werewolves! They could have done it!"

Oh right, Hamish. I guess I'll stay with him. Slowly I sat back down.

"But what about dinner?" I asked him.

"I'll eat dinner tomorrow, I promise," he kissed Hamish's head and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll be back before breakfast!" He sprinted out he door and slammed it behind him.

Then it got quite. You probably could have heard a pin drop. Would it always be like this?

I picked my plate back up and began to eat again.

"I'm sorry I ruined your adventure with Father," Hamish apologized quietly.

"Oh, no," I jumped in, "I'd much rather be here with you."

I didn't know if that was the truth.

"Come on its late," I stood up and took Sherlock's plate, "Go wash up and I'll tuck you in bed."

When we were both washed up and ready for bed I walked up to Hamish's room. He was already in bed and had a book in hand.

"Can you read this to me?" he asked.

"Hamish, it's late," I complained as I took the book.

I looked at the cover, it wasn't a published book. It was more of a notebook. "The Adventures of the Detective and His Doctor. True Stories. Written Down By Irene Adler." There were silhouettes of a very tall and skinny man, and a shorter, less thin man next to him running.

"Is this me?!" I asked a little insulted. "I'm not that fat!" My face got a little red.

Hamish giggled at my frustration. "The cover isn't important! Please just read me a story," he smiled.

Smiling back I opened the first page. "To my Hamish: Never stop adventuring. And to Mr. Sherlock and John Holmes: Thank you, for everything."

My face blushed even more. Mr. Sherlock and John Holmes?! What? We're not married. And we weren't even together then.

"My favorite one is the one about the hounds," he smiled as he turned the pages to that spot he wanted. "Can you read that one?"

It was all hand written. There were hundreds of pages. Of our stories. Irene wrote all this?

Hamish fell asleep after a couple of pages but I kept reading. The stories were all right. She probably got them from my blog, but still, this is amazing.

After awhile I grew tired. Softly I kissed Hamish on the head and went down to my room. I brought the book with me.

It was hard to sleep with out Sherlock being my blanket. But I told myself he would be there when I woke.

I hope he's going to be back soon.


End file.
